


orange glow

by ictus



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-02 00:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20950370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ictus/pseuds/ictus
Summary: Just knowing that Ben's watching gives Klaus a rush that's unlike any drug.





	orange glow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scorpiod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/gifts).

> Inspired by the prompt _Klaus doing sexual things and getting into sexual situations deliberately so Ben can watch._ I hope you had a good exchange 🍊! Huge thanks to my beta asuralucier who's a literal miracle-worker.

The apartment is nice—nicer than what Klaus is used to, anyway.

Klaus is only vaguely cognizant of exactly how he’s ended up here. He remembers the nightclub, loud music and flashing lights, and a stranger’s body pressed against his. A shot of Jack pressed into his hand and the words, _call me Max_ whispered into his ear. The classic Boy Meets Boy story. Max had stroked his hand down Klaus’s back, offered him a couple of lines, and that was that. Klaus always _had_ been good at making friends, especially when there was coke involved—especially when they dragged him out onto the dancefloor, then later into a cab. For Klaus, the promise of a good time was always too good to pass up.

Max doesn’t say anything when they arrive, just locks the door behind him and gets his hands under Klaus’s shirt, his breath hot on Klaus’s neck as broad palms map out his skin. Max leaves the lights off but there’s enough of it filtering in through the blinds, the orange glow of the sodium streetlamps bathing the room in an amber hue—like an artificial sunset, like a lit cigarette.

Klaus is itching for another line, fixated on the idea of riding out his high while he rides Max’s dick, the kind of ecstasy that only comes artificially these days. He’s already anticipating it, dopamine flooding his system at promise of another hit, when his eyes catch on a dark figure and he lets out a strangled yelp.

It’s Ben.

Ben is here. Ben is sitting on Max’s couch, his jacket cast off and the bare skin of his arms striped in the slatted light. He’s reading one of those godawful Russian books in the glow of the streetlamp, seemingly oblivious to both of them.

“Oh don’t mind me,” Ben says, turning the page with a deliberate slowness.

“Hey,” Max says, concerned by Klaus’s scream. Klaus jumps, having almost forgotten he was there. Max grabs Klaus’s jaw and peers into his eyes. “You alright?”

Klaus knows he looks completely fucked, pupils blown and lips bitten red, strung out from dexys and booze and the lines they did at the club. His hands shake where they cling to Max’s sides, the high crashing like a wave on the shore, and he needs a drink, he needs a fuck, he needs a—he needs—

“Tell him you’re fine,” Ben says, still not looking up.

Klaus hears the words _I’m fine_ come out of his mouth as if spoken by someone else, and Max doesn’t need convincing, even though Klaus is very clearly _not,_ even though he hasn’t been fine a single day in his life. Max backs him against the wall, crowding him with his body and pressing their mouths together and suddenly—suddenly it feels different.

Ben hasn’t moved, hasn’t even taken his eyes off the page, but Klaus is tuned into his presence. Klaus knows he’s listening to every gasp, to every moan. Klaus is used to spirits and ghosts showing up at inopportune moments, unexpected and unwanted, but this is _Ben. _Just knowing that he’s there gives Klaus a rush that’s unlike anything he could shoot, snort, or smoke. Klaus shifts a little so he’s in Ben’s line of sight then sucks Max’s fingers into his mouth, taking them right down to the second knuckle. The moan he lets out isn’t even exaggerated, not when he raises his eyes to see that Ben has gone perfectly still, his eyes unmoving where they’re fixed on the page, all pretence of nonchalance betrayed by his white-knuckled grip.

From there it’s easy to sink to his knees and get his hands on Max’s cock, to make a show of squeezing the base and running his thumb along the underside. Klaus licks Max from base to tip, slow in the way he’s never had the patience for, and when he takes the head into his mouth he raises his eyes to Ben. Ben’s finally put the book aside and is staring at Klaus directly, the intensity his gaze sending a molten heat through Klaus’s entire body. Klaus groans and lets his eyes fall shut, hollowing his cheeks and taking Max deep in his throat. Klaus knows how he looks right now—on his knees with his thighs splayed, his lips shiny with precome—has had enough guys whisper all sorts of filth into his ear to know just how hot it gets them. It seems to be having a similar effect on Ben. Ben who’s fixated on him with rapt attention, his lips parted and a flush blooming high on his cheeks, his own hand resting innocently on his thigh.

Klaus stops before Max can come, drawing off with a smirk that’s more for Ben’s benefit than anything else. The bed is in full view of the couch, an oasis of orange light in the dim room, and Klaus draws Max back to it, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the couch. It lands next to Ben whose hand has tightened on his thigh, the hard line of his erection clearly visible through his jeans. Klaus licks his lips, letting his gaze linger with obvious intent. Klaus wonders exactly what it would take to break Ben’s composure, to get him to shove his jeans down his thighs and take himself in hand.

He thinks he’d like to find out.

It’s not enough when he shimmies out of his skinny jeans, letting Max run his hands over his skin and arching into his every touch. It’s not enough when he pushes Max onto the bed and straddles his hips, rutting against his stomach as they kiss, desperate and filthy. It’s not enough when Klaus takes himself in hand, locking eyes with Ben as he fucks his fist, his dick hard and leaking.

It’s _almost _enough when Klaus slicks his fingers and starts slowly rubbing his hole. Klaus can hear Ben’s gasp from across the room, doesn’t miss the way his hand twitches, as if it’s taking all of his self-control not to start rubbing himself through his pants. Klaus slowly opens himself up as Ben’s eyes fixate on the place where his fingers disappear into his body, unable to look away as Klaus’s muscles ripple with every spark of pleasure.

Ben looks like he’s seconds away from touching himself. “Do it,” Klaus whispers, and Ben’s eyes go wide.

“Yeah?” Max asks from beneath him, and _fuck_ Klaus needs to stop forgetting he exists.

“Yeah,” Ben answers for him, and how can Klaus say no to that?

“Yeah,” Klaus says on an exhalation, and within seconds Max is gripping his hip with one hand and lining himself up with the other. Klaus locks eyes with Ben as he slowly sinks down, imagining it’s Ben beneath him, Ben pressing into him and filling him up. Klaus moans when he takes Max all the way and Ben actually squeezes himself through his pants, and Klaus doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything hotter. Ben looks almost dreamlike the orange glow, ethereal the way that most people would expect a ghost to look, and Klaus has never wished he could manifest spirits more than he does at this moment.

Max’s grip on his hip has become painful, and Klaus is forced to remind himself there’s someone else in the room. He begins to move in a slow grind, becoming accustomed to the stretch and working himself at his own pace. Ben has undone his jeans and slipped a hand into his underwear, and while Klaus can’t see anything, he _knows_ Ben is getting off on this, and it only makes Klaus move faster. Max plants his feet flat on the bed and uses the leverage to fuck Klaus, driving into him with deep thrusts that knock the air right out of his lungs. Klaus can’t even be embarrassed by the noises he’s making, by the way he’s choking on his own moans because Ben’s hand quickens with every bitten-off gasp, with every whimper that’s forced past his lips.

“I know you’re close,” Ben says from the couch, and before Klaus can reply he licks his lips and says, “I am too.”

“Oh god,” Klaus gasps. He abandons all thoughts of finesse and takes himself in hand, stroking himself with the kind of desperation that he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. He’s right on the edge, Max bringing him closer with every thrust, the pleasure building to a crescendo as Max picks up the pace. He wants to see Ben come first, and he can tell Ben’s almost there when Max suddenly pulls out and flips him onto his back.

Klaus doesn’t have time to think, doesn’t have time to _breathe_ before Max is hiking up his leg and pressing into him again with long, deep strokes. Klaus barely even gets a hand on himself before he comes, spilling hot and messy over his own stomach as Max drives into him, not letting up even as Klaus’s moans turn to whimpers. Klaus is overwhelmed, the sensory overload all too much, his vision awash with the orange light. Distantly, he’s aware of Max groaning as he thrusts one last time, then easing out and collapsing next to him.

Klaus’s ears are ringing, his head filling with static as the pleasure from his orgasm dissipates and his comedown hits him like a lead weight. He lets his eyes fall shut while he steadies his breathing, and when he opens them again the room’s gone grey. Klaus blinks, trying to correct his vision. It’s as though someone’s switched the filter from sepia to monochrome, the orange glow gone, leaving only a murky gloom.

Klaus cranes his head to see that the streetlamps have gone out as the dawn approaches. Now, there’s nothing but the watery, early-morning light suffusing the room. Max is muttering something, stumbling towards the bathroom to toss the condom, but Klaus isn’t paying attention to him, his gaze drawn back to the couch.

Ben is gone.

Klaus stares and he stares, and Ben’s still gone. Klaus hears the faucet running from the bathroom, and Ben’s still gone. Klaus fishes his tobacco out of his jacket pocket, rolls a cigarette, and Ben’s still gone.

Ben will be back. He always is. Klaus closes his eyes and thinks of Ben’s mouth slack with pleasure, thinks of Ben’s face as he brought himself off. Thinks of, _I know you’re close. _Thinks of, _I am too_.

“Hey,” Max calls from the bathroom. “Do you want another line?”

Klaus lights his cigarette and stares at the orange glow.

“Sure,” he says, and breathes grey smoke into the gloom. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/scansionictus).


End file.
